


Heroic Acts of Questionable Morality

by EverythinggStayss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bank Robbery, Barney Barton - Freeform, Brian Banner - Freeform, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Child Abuse, Gen, Minor Character Death, Police, Red Room, Sarah Rogers - Freeform, Stealing, Swearing, Tags Subject to Change, Team as Family, Teen Avengers, Teen Clint, Teen Natasha, Teen Thor, and a gem, because of a flashback, criminal activity, im a sucker for teen avengers just go with it, runaways - Freeform, teen bruce, teen steve, teen tony, thor is a diplomat, wow watch me pretend it's still 2012
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythinggStayss/pseuds/EverythinggStayss
Summary: They called themselves The Avengers. Very theatrical and probably more heroic than their acts deserved.They started three years ago, when they had banded together, broke, untrusting, and divided. What was originally the occasional ATM machine grew into full scale armed bank robberies.It turned out they had a knack for this sort of thing.((Teen runaway criminal avengers))





	1. Duffle Bags and Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm writing an actual story with a plot!
> 
> Also it has chapters!!
> 
> Ahh!!

Bruce adjusted his grip on the heavy backpack, and glanced around the run-down street. He wanted to run, but he knew better than that. Too suspicious. He checked over his shoulder in the dusty window of a shop he walked by, and caught sight of a police car patrolling the streets.

"Guys! Cops!" he whispered to his five peers, each similarly weighed down with bags.

"Act casual," said the black-haired girl walking near the front of the group. She grabbed the arm of the tall boy in a baseball cap next to her, and laid it around her waist.

Taking her hint, the green-haired boy next to Bruce laughed obnoxiously and shoved the shoulder of the shorter boy in front of him.

"God, Lucas, you're such an asshole!" he barked.

They were clearly a suspicious bunch, but they managed to play the part well enough for the cop to drive past.

"Lucas?" scowled the shorter boy, rubbing his shoulder.

"We gotta get out of sight. That was too close" Bruce said, tugging on his hoodie drawstrings.

"I checked the maps back at the station. There's a motel a couple blocks from here." said the boy in the baseball cap.

"Tony, can you get us in?" the girl asked the shorter boy.

"All I need is a good enough wifi connection and we'll be smooth sailing" he grinned.

 

_____________

 

Bruce sat with Tony, the green-haired boy, and the boy in the baseball cap in an alleyway behind some dingy cafe. Tony tugged a battered laptop from his backpack and booted it up. His fingers danced across the keys as he hacked into the DMV database. He gave a nod to the girl and a boy with a scruffy beard.

"Thor, you ready?" she asked him. "Aye."

 

_____________

 

The receptionist looked up from his game of solitaire he was playing on the desk to see a big guy holding a duffle bag and a small, raven-haired girl wrapped around him. He sauntered over to the counter and gave an easy grin. The girl leaned across the counter. She giggled, "A room for two, please!"

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "You kids even legal?"

She laughed again and slipped a hand into the boy's pocket, pulling out his ID. Taking the ID, he scanned it through the computer, which confirmed he was 18.

"Uh, Danny Blake?"

"Aye, that is me"

The couple booked three nights, paid in cash. The girl slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter.

"For some privacy," she winked.

 

__________

 

The motel room was small, with two rickety beds that smelled faintly of mothballs. They had drawn the cheap green curtains and dumped the bags in the middle of the room. There was a glitchy television perched on an out-of-style dresser. Off to the side was a minuscule bathroom with a noisy toilet.

Clint stuck his head under the running sink, watching the green dye swirl down the drain. His hair back to its proper blond, he towelled it off and left the bathroom.

Thor and Bruce were lying on one bed, inspecting the pamphlets on the nightstand. Steve had pulled off his cap and was watching Tony, who had already gotten out his toolkit and was dissecting the TV.

The room filled with steam as Natasha stepped out of the bathroom, head wrapped in a towel. She shook out her previously black hair, which was back to its usual red and walked over to the bags.

 

___________

 

Tony had fixed the television and led Thor to the bathroom to help him shave off his stubbly beard.

They tried to look as different as they could, as often as they could. Being on the run meant being careful. An endless stream of disguises, wiping fingerprints, hacking security cameras, even putting all their garbage in a bag they carried to the next town over so nothing would be found if they tracked them to wherever they were staying.

Bruce had clearly picked the tv channel, because some nature show was playing, its soft drum of noise filling the room. Steve and Nat were doing inventory on the loot in the bags. It was a good amount of cash, enough to take them through the next cities on the list.

 

____________

 

Six teenagers sharing two small beds is never exactly comfortable, but after two years of it, they had reached a level of intimacy that involved existing entirely together.

Bruce wasn't quite sure how they'd wound up so connected, but it did make having Thor snoring in your ear and Tony's leg draped over your body a little easier.

Only a foot away in the other bed lay Steve, sound asleep with Natasha curled at his back. Clint was on his stomach, arm spread across Natasha's torso.

 

___________

 

Breakfast wasn't a frequent occurrence considering how they were fugitives from the law, but a successful op was always celebrated with some food.

Plus, Steve wanted to kept their energy up.

Natasha had awoken first and as a result of her trying to climb over him to get out of bed, he woke second. Unsurprisingly, Clint hadn't even moved.

He and Natasha wandered into the bathroom to splash some water on their faces, careful to not wake the others. They slipped their shoes on, grabbed a little money from the bags, and stepped outside.

Breathing in the early air, they made their way across the street to a convenience store.

 

____________

 

Steve hummed softly to the tinny music, surveying the fluorescent-lit bodega for food. It wasn't the best selection, but they'd definitely had worst. A few bags of chips, instant coffee, and, to Steve's mild delight, a carton of eggs.

Carrying their groceries they walked back to the motel. Thor stirred at the noise of the opening door but drifted off again.

The room had a dented coffee maker that Nat fiddled with as Steve rummaged through their stuff. When he had found the hot plate he started to cook eggs.

The hot plate was a luxury. Pulled out of trash and fixed up, it was heavy and inconvenient to carry, and either undercooked or overcooked everything. But food was good, and hot food was better.

 

__________

 

Thor woke at the smell of eggs and coffee and promptly elbowed Tony and Bruce in the sides. Tony grumbled angrily and Bruce sighed desperately into the pillow, but both visibly brightened at the cups of coffee Steve was pouring.

Natasha climbed on the bed where Clint still lay and bashed him in the face with the pillow. Clint swore, muffled by the pillow and dragged himself out of bed.

 

__________

 

Over breakfast they discussed strategies, Steve supplying the inventory of the op and Bruce keeping tally of their expenses. Natasha stated the security of their current position, Clint listed off the next possible destinations, and Tony scanned the web for police tails.

They had done well the day before. Clean and fairly bountiful. But no matter how much money they'd secure, they always ran out. Supporting six people, two of which were big eaters, was difficult.

Clint was beginning to wonder if they should be moving on the bigger jobs than robbing small banks.

 

___________

 

SEVEN YEARS AGO

He was nine years old and fed up with this shit.

Clint cursed at the air and shoved what little possessions he had into a bag. A few outfits, a toothbrush, three comic books, a handful of nickels, and his bow. Breathing heavily he zipped the bag, slung it over his shoulder.

He was finally doing it. He was ditching his stupid brother and getting the fuck out of this freak show.

Careful not to get caught, he snuck out into the moonlit field, then broke into a run. Huffing and panting and sweating, he ran as fast as he could, until his chest cramped and legs burned, and he kept running.

He was finally free. Free of this fucking cycle of hiding and working and getting nothing back.

Gasping for air, he fell to his knees, exhausted but exhilarated.

After gathering his composure, he stood up and glanced back at where he'd come from. The cheap hot lights of the camp shone in the distance, and for a second, he hesitated.

His brother wasn't the greatest but he'd always kept him alive. Even when they had nothing, they had each other.

 _No_. Clint narrowed his eyes. _I won't be part of his crimes. I don't give a fuck about him. I'm leaving for good_.

He was nine years old and completely alone.

____________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of an awkward start but...
> 
> Comments and Kudos please!


	2. Case Files and Weapons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: murder and child abuse in the last part

They called themselves The Avengers. Very theatrical and probably more heroic than their acts deserved. But Tony had picked the name and the others had snowballed.

They started three years ago, when they had banded together, broke, untrusting, and divided. What was originally the occasional ATM machine grew into full scale armed bank robberies.

It turned out they had a knack for this sort of thing.

Steve was a natural born leader, direct, strong, and protective. He was good at planning never gave up fighting, not once in his seventeen years.

Tony was snarky and sharp, good with numbers, technology, and crazy ideas. Also, he was endlessly charming and infuriating to talk to, which came in handy when someone got too close.

Natasha, fifteen, knew how to target an enemy. She was precise and determined. Lies and deception came as easily to her as breathing.

Bruce was an incredibly smart fourteen year old. His mind was a key asset to the team, but his temper was,too. While usually happy to stay unnoticed, when angry, there was no stopping him.

Clint never missed. Archery is strange weapon and talent for a sixteen year old, but he was a damn good shot. Clint got things done.

Thor was huge. Strong and tough, he could grow a beard and topple a wrestler, despite being a few months shy of eighteen and ridiculously formal.

They were the Avengers.

 

__________

  

Tony pulled apart each of their weapons, checking them over.

He checked the draw on Clint's bow, patched Steve's makeshift-but-effective shield, and cleaned Natasha's handgun.

No one asked why a sixteen year old would know how to clean a gun.

No one asked why Natasha knew how to use one, either.

After working on the other's gear, he turned to his own.

Composed of wires, metal, and circuits, Tony's system was made entirely by himself. A headset with a mic and an eyepiece was connected to the chest piece, where the battery was kept. He plugged in the headset to his precious laptop and began to recalibrate it.

 

____________

 

"Sir? It's the six bank robbers again."

Nick Fury turned to the officer. "Where'd they hit? What'd they take?"

"NY Trust, at Third and Pine. Estimated $30,000."

"Damnit, Hill! That's three times this year!"

NYCP Chief of Police, Nicholas J. Fury had never let anything happen in his city twice, let alone three times. But the six unidentified criminals currently running amok had again and again slipped out of his hands.

His one good eye scanned across the evidence from the new crime.

_Features covered. No fingerprints. Nothing traceable left behind._

_Security systems were hacked and completely disabled while two figures stormed the front doors, one with a baseball bat and the other with a gun and some sort of battery shield. Authorities were alerted, but they were already gone._

_Somehow the others had gotten into the bank's vault during the chaos, taking most but not all of the money._

_Eye witnesses reported six disguised figures speeding away in a van with a licence plate no one could remember._

Just like last time.

Fury took a long breath.

 _Fuck the bastards_.

 

 __________

 

SIX YEARS AGO

Bruce was sitting in shed. There wasn't any light, but that's why he always brought his flashlight.

He reached into his hiding spot and pulled out the book he was borrowing from school.

It wasn't from the library, because the librarian kept not letting him take out the ones he wanted.

_No, Bruce. Those books aren't for you, you're in third grade. Go pick something from the alphabetical section like your classmates. I don't want to see you over here again, young man. Don't try and lie to me that you can read that because you can't._

His father never liked it when he read what he wanted, either.

He was borrowing the book from the grade eight science teacher, who never told Bruce what he could and could not read. It was on Chemical Biology, a topic he found quite interesting lately.

Bruce lost himself in the flashlight-lit pages until the alarm he had set on his watch had gone off.

He quickly snapped the book closed and stuffed back in its place. He ran inside the house and began to cook dinner.

As Bruce was finishing the meal, his father returned from work.

He plated the food and ate with his father in silence.

The nights when Bruce's mother worked late were always the worst.

Every day, he listened for the front door, desperately wishing she could walk in early and stop his father.

On that day she did.

Bruce screamed as his mother was killed, and ran from the house.

He never gave back that book.

 

________

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last bit was a bit darker than the rest of the story will probably be, because terrible things happen to Bruce. Poor Bruce. 
> 
> Comments? Critique? Let me know.  
> Kudos if ya like it please!


	3. Supply Trips and Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I lied its darkish again. The flashback at the end is a little bit bloody.

The local news is playing on the television. They watch it together, ignoring the occasional glitch in the picture.

_...six unidentified criminals behind the armed robbery in Manhattan and Brooklyn are still at large. The NYCPD have yet to release a statement, and speculation about the robbers continues..._

"We should start to think about our next move. I think we should move north" said Natasha, cutting over the program.

"What we should do," Clint replied, "is pick our next target. We got away clean, we can do it again. They've got no idea who we are."

Tony shook his head. "We need to wait for the heat to die down. We can't jump right back in, they'll trail us. We find somewhere nice to stay for a while, then hit the bank on Leslie."

Steve looked up. "Hold on a minute. Since when are we planning more thefts? We've got enough to last us for a long while, we should stay where we are."

"This isn't good. We should get off the grid, they're going to catch up to us." Bruce huffed.

The five voices began to argue, different plans conflicting and washing over one another. Thor let them argue a moment longer before interrupting, his booming voice muffling theirs.

"We have plenty of funds to sustain us. Committing petty acts for the mere sake of money is dishonourable. But we do need to find a place to stay, and it's time we began trying to find a permanent one."

The others seemed to agree, and so a plan was constructed.

____________

 

Hats, hoods, and scarfs covering their faces as nonchalantly as possible, the group had taken a quick bus ride to the nearest 24-hour Walmart.

Whether it's the tired aisles of cheerful consumerism, or the simple fact that they are usually busy and aren't at night, there is something incredibly strange about grocery stores in the middle of the night.

Identical sharp beeps accompanied the scanning of their purchases:

•plastic kid's putty

•an MP3 player

•PVC pipe

•a laser pointer

•three packs of gummy worms.

Also, ammo.

____________

 

FIVE YEARS AGO

_"Again."_

She is Natalia Alianovna Romanova. She is 10 years old.

_"Get up."_

She is in the training hall of the Red Room facility. It is 0500. Exit routes are located behind her and to her right.

_"Get up, girl!"_

She does.

_"Fight, now. And win."_

She does.

_"Finish it."_

Natalia looks at her opponent pinned beneath her. Viktoriya Malvina Sotnikova, combat trained, age 11. The girl's eyes widen. Natalia hesitates.

_"Natalia. Finish it."_

She does, and looks dispassionately at the pooling blood.

_"Good. Now rise."_

Her handler has a mission for her. The target is to receive a package at a safe house. She is to intercept it, then kill the target. No mess.

 _And no hesitations_ , her handler reminds.

Trips outside the Room are always important. The other girls are jealous that it is her who is entrusted with this.

Natalia stares out the window as she is driven to the target's site. She catches sight of a boy her age. He is playing alone. Her eyes linger too long. Her handler disapproves.

An hour later, she is alone with the target, package secured, a knife against his throat.

There is a picture of his wife and daughter on his desk. She hesitates.

She kills him.

She is supposed to walk through the woods to meet her handler at the rendezvous point and deliver the package.

She hesitates.

She washes her hands in the stream, blood swirling in the water, and walks the other way.

___________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so out of my comfort zone with this story, which is why the chapters are so, so short and the style is inconsistent. *shrugs*
> 
> I googled so much for this chapter omg. Apparently you can buy ammunition in a Walmart in the states? Also American cities are crazy confusing. I also know nothing about Russian names, so yet more googling. 
> 
> If ya like it, let me know. If you don't, let me know that too. If I've made a mistake, seriously, let me know. 
> 
> COMING SOON: ACTUAL PLOT (probably)


	4. Lockpicks and Pringles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? What's this? A new chapter?
> 
> Yeah, schools over and I'm back!
> 
> Warning for the flashback, although honestly y'all should know that by now.

An orange stripe of light cast from a nearby streetlamp pulls a long blue shadows from her feet. It's nighttime.

Her shoulders swim in one of Steve's big hoodies and Clint's grey toque is pulled low over her chopped red hair. She blows a bubble in her gum and checks her surroundings.

Picking locks is an old trick, and in this part of town most cars are low-tech. Natasha shimmies the lockpick till it clicks and gets in the car.

 _Mm, this guy really needs to eat out less,_ she thinks, pushing aside balled up fast food bags.

Popping off the panel from the steering column, she grabs the right bundle of wire and strips them. Carefully, Natasha touches the live wires together and revs the engine.

She looks out the window at Bruce and Steve carrying all their stuff to the trunk. Clint is still in the motel, scanning to guarantee they haven't left a single trace behind.

Tony moves to take her place in the drivers seat and she goes to check out with Thor.

___________

 

"Shouldn't we feel at least a little bad? He was a really nice guy," Steve points out.

Natasha shrugs, "He eats too much trash. We're only reminding him to exercise."

The poor motel receptionist will no doubt have a really bad day once he gets off his shift only to find his car has been stolen, but it's must easier to run from the law when you're not actually _running_.

___________

 

They drive for what feels like eons. Thor isn't sure how long he's been squished in the backseat but the dark skies turned a faint pink that has now given way to a proper blue, so as far as he's concerned it's been too long.

Joining him in the back of the car is Bruce and Natasha, as Tony has been driving and Steve called shotgun. Somewhere between the start of their journey and the present, Clint, who had been forced into the back as well, had proclaimed "fuck it" and was now sitting on the centre console facing the back of the car.

The sun has climbed into the sky, and Thor closes his eyes and remembers his family. How everything was perfect.

How everything fell apart.

"All I'm saying is that the greatest invention of all time has to be Pringles. I mean, c'mon, tube chips? They stack!"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Clint, you'd pick Pringles over every single other thing ever made? What about the wheel? Modern medicine?"

"-And the internet!" exclaimed Tony.

Bruce, who had been quiet, joined the conversation. "Mm, well, the shape of a Pringle is a hyperbolic paraboloid. It's mathematically, aesthetically, and practically ideal."

Tony laughed. "Really Bruce? You're gonna side with Clint?"

Bruce shrugged. "I like Pringles."

Thor smiled at the group's usual antics.

_They aren't perfect. But they are a family._

___________

 

At noon they pulled over for a stretch, bathroom break, snacks, and gas.

Clint bought Pringles and refused to share them with anyone but Bruce.

___________

 

Detective Phil Coulson had done his best to do what's right his whole life.

It was why he joined the police force. It was why he worked to be the best at his job for years. And he was. If you wanted a detective with killer instincts and a knack for character, you called Phil.

Five years ago, he led a squad of officers into a hostage situation that got four of them killed.

Phil sighed, shifting through reports of petty theft and other minor cases. He checks the plate of a missing car report in the camera system.

 _Match_.

Six teens at a gas station with the stolen car.

He's stopped trusting his instincts ever since four people died from them. But something was clicking in the back of his mind.

He crosses the teens in the security footage with missing children files.

 _Match_.

___________

 

FOUR YEARS AGO

His lungs flutter and tighten in the cold. He tugs his thrift-store jacket close around him and ignores the way the air bites at his face and eats at his bones.

Steve can hear Dr. MacAdams telling him to stay inside.

Honestly, he'd love to be inside, but someone has to get the groceries. The plastic bag handles have stretched into painful strings that cut into his frostbitten fingers.

When he finally trudges up the steps to his apartment, his lips are blue and ears are red. After fumbling with the key, he finally unlocks the door and steps out of the cold.

It's warm inside. Not as warm as it could be, because heat is expensive and they need the money for his mother's medicine.

He undresses out of his winter clothes and unpacks the groceries.

"Hey mom, I'm home! They had potatoes on sale, so I bought a whole bunch. Want me to make something? Potato leak soup? We, uh, we don't have leaks so maybe just potato soup..."

Steve methodically recounts his day to his mother on the couch as he cooks. He doesn't look up until he's got all the ingredients in the pot. When he does, he realizes his mom hasn't said a word.

_Oh, I guess she fell asleep._

She does that a lot lately. Dr. MacAdams says it's her body recuperating from fighting off the illness.

He goes to pull a knitted blanket over her. She's stiff. Her body is very still. Far too still.

He's got his hand around her wrist in a second, his heart racing as hers is...

       gone

A choked off gasp escapes his mouth as he slips to the floor. He stays there, holding her hand.

The next day, when he's not at school, and he's not at the doctors, and he's not delivering papers with his best friend, a neighbour stops by to check on the Rogers.

They have to pull his hand from hers.

One police officer zips his mother into a black bag and another picks him off the floor and drives him to child services.

 _It's okay_ , they say, _she was gone in her sleep._

___________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this plot development? Let's hope so. 
> 
> Like it? Hate it?  
> Catch a mistake?  
> Comments and kudos make my day!


End file.
